


Tea for Two

by FeelingFredly



Series: Better Living Through Chemistry [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Consensual Tea Drugging, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 01:31:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19983835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelingFredly/pseuds/FeelingFredly
Summary: The joys of loving a mad scientist.Or as Socrates said...  I drank what?





	Tea for Two

**Author's Note:**

> I wandered into the UraIchi Discord server and stumbled over a discussion of the absolute *crime* that there was no tag for "Consensual Tea Drugging." The rest, as they say, is... somebody else's fault. LOL

“What does this one do?”

Kisuke peered around the corner of the cabinet and tutted. “Telling you would skew the results of the experiment.”

Ichigo looked into the muddy depths of his teacup and muttered, “Like you’re not already skewed.” He sighed, “So, I just trust you and drink it?”

Kisuke paused for a moment. Put like that he could understand Ichigo’s concern. “I suppose I could…”

A second later Ichigo was behind him, his front pressed against the planes of Kisuke’s back, and handed him the empty cup. “You should’ve just said. I’m going to go settle down on the futon with a book in case I get dizzy. You want to come take notes?”

Kisuke looked at the empty cup and then watched Ichigo as he wandered back towards their bedroom.

_Notes. Right._

***

“Wheeeeen the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amor-aaay.”

Ichigo’s singing voice was quite nice, although his choice of song was suspect. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to lie down, Ichigo-kun?” Kisuke asked. He was fairly certain that not-tea-drugged Ichigo would prefer to keep his vocal abilities to himself, even if they were terribly entertaining.

Ichigo spun on the ball of his foot—the tea clearly didn’t affect him physically as much as mentally—and shook his head. “No way! I feel great! I feel so great that you should send a message to Grimmjow and tell him that I want to pound his ass.”

Kisuke’s lip quirked a fraction and Ichigo paused, rethinking what he’d said.

“Not like _that_ ,” Ichigo let out an undignified snort, “although have you seen his ass? I mean, I know you’ve _seen_ his ass, but have you _seen_ it?” He sighed a little dreamily and Kisuke wondered just how much of Grimmjow’s ass Ichigo _had_ seen. “I meant that I wanted to pound his ass _into the ground_ , not the futon.”

Ichigo paused again and Kisuke could almost hear the wheels turning in his head as a sly smirk spread across his face.

“Now _your_ ass is another thing _entirely_.”

Kisuke made a note in his journal.

***

The water pelted over them, Kisuke’s wet samue clinging to him as he washed the traces of sickness away from Ichigo’s pale face.

“This wasn’t what I signed on for with the whole ‘consensual tea drugging’ experiment.” Ichigo’s voice was rough, his throat raw from hours of expelling what seemed like everything he’d ever consumed in his life. “Although the shower part is nice.”

Kisuke ran his hand down Ichigo’s flank, long soothing strokes, and hmmm’d. “I didn’t expect this reaction, either. The tea was supposed to make you sleepy. Possibly knock you out. I bought a Sharpie to draw a mustache on you and everything.”

Ichigo let out a watery laugh. “Only you would tell me that to try to make me _happier_ with you.”

Kisuke wrapped his arms around the smaller man and held him, the memory of his recent misery an uncomfortable lump in his stomach.

“I am sorry, for what it’s worth.” The words were soft against Ichigo’s bare shoulder.

A quiet rumble answered him. “It’s worth a lot.”

***

“I am absolutely positive.”

Ichigo stared into the teacup doubtfully. “Is this like ‘normal people absolutely positive’ or ‘mad scientist absolutely positive’?”

Kisuke tilted his head to one side. “You do realize that as a mad scientist I can’t actually answer that question any way but the latter, don’t you?”

The redhead rolled his eyes. “ _You do realize_ that that kind of logic only applies when you’re avoiding the subject, Kisuke.”

That was true enough. Kisuke shrugged.

“Let’s go with mathematical rather than interpretational, then. I am 95% certain that this tea will not allow me to analyze the contents of your stomach first-hand. The +/- 5% takes into account any previously undiscovered intolerances, allergies, or hollow/reiatsu reactions. Fair enough?”

Ichigo had swallowed the contents of the cup before he’d finished his explanation.

“Why quibble if you were just going to drink it anyway?”

Ichigo smirked. “Keeps you on your toes. Anyway, tastes better than the last kind. Either going down or coming back up.”

Kisuke nodded. “I added a few things for flavor.”

Brown eyes met his. “I recognized the cinnamon and I thank you. You know I like the taste of that.”

“Yes,” Kisuke said, gently guiding Ichigo out of the kitchen and down the hall. “I used cinnamon, star anise, and cardamom… to hide the curare.”

Ichigo stopped stock still in the middle of the doorway. “Curare!?!”

Kisuke smiled and bussed him on the cheek. “I love how smart you are. You know curare? It’s surprisingly bitter and taken orally you must use a lot to get any effect. It was quite the puzzle.”

He pushed Ichigo into the bedroom and down onto the futon that he’d rolled out earlier, just for this.

Ichigo looked around a little wildly at the made-up bed. “What’s all this?”

Kisuke watched him try to raise his hands. It wasn’t working very well, which meant the tea _was_.

“This,” he said, pulling Ichigo’s hands up and crossing them over his navel, “is a way for me to see how long the tea’s effects last.”

The redhead gave him a look, and Kisuke was pleased to see that neither his breathing nor his pupils had been affected. Good. 

“Lying here paralyzed is going to get pretty boring. For both of us. I hope you brought a book. I’ll probably just sleep.” His words were a little slurred, but he was clearly coherent. Kisuke stood and started removing his clothes, pleased to see Ichigo’s pupils reacting to _that_ at least.

“Oh, I had a better idea than a book. You see, something that has always puzzled me is how intention changes the effect of certain drugs. Someone with enough motivation can push through a lot of things, and it’s important to test these things under suitable _duress_.”

Naked now, he stood just in Ichigo’s line of sight. He trailed a hand languidly along the centerline of his abdomen, a track that the other man loved to trace with his tongue, and finally down to his slightly stiffening cock and then further to cup his tightening balls.

In the time they’d been together there had been many discoveries, but almost none had pleased Kisuke more than the fact that Ichigo loved, absolutely loved, to watch him touch himself. His eyes would widen, and his breath would shorten, his lips would shine bitten and red as he forced himself to wait, wait, wait… until he couldn’t wait anymore and would launch himself like a starving man at Kisuke, his hands everywhere, mouth hot and demanding, and then, only then, would Kisuke allow himself to come, preferably buried deeply in Ichigo’s beautiful body.

This time, though, Ichigo couldn’t pounce. The tea would keep him still longer than his willpower ever could, and Kisuke couldn’t wait to see what happened.

He pulled a cushion over beside the futon and relaxed cross-legged, his cock now at half-mast, barely an arm’s length away from Ichigo’s face.

“Fuck, Kisuke.”

Ichigo’s eyes were all pupil, blown wide with desire as he forced the words through slack lips. That gave him so many ideas. He gripped himself a little harder and played with the fold of foreskin that protected the sensitive glans.

“That will have to wait, Ichigo-kun,” he said with a soft laugh, “the tea, you know.”

Even drugged Ichigo managed a scowl. “You’re enjoying this.”

Kisuke looked down into the wide brown eyes and let his desire show. “Oh yes. Yes I am.”

His fingers were cool against the heat of his cock, and the friction was enough to slow his stroke. 

“You know,” he said, eyes drifting shut as he teased them both, “there’s a healing kidō that the Fourth uses. It stops muscles from reflexively tightening and I’ve always wondered if there weren’t _other_ applications for it.”

Kisuke reached across with his unoccupied hand and stroked along the length of Ichigo’s throat.

“Can’t you just imagine? I could totally remove your gag reflex. There’d be nothing to stop me from just fucking your mouth, and you’d be unable to move, unable to do anything but _feel me_.”

The groan that hung in the air could have come from either of them.

“You’re a bastard, Kisuke,” Ichigo said and Kisuke laughed, his hand stopping mid-stroke.

“That is not a surprise to either of us.”

He leaned forward and reached into the drawer of the bedside table, the ubiquitous hiding place for lubricant throughout three worlds, and pulled out the little stoppered jar that lived there. He smiled softly at the gasp he heard as Ichigo sucked in a breath, watching as his cock bobbed mere inches from his face.

Kisuke warmed the handful of oil and gripped himself again with a sigh of satisfaction. “Is this more what you had in mind when you agreed to my drugged tea experiments?”

He knew he was poking a dragon, but he couldn’t help himself. He loved to hear it roar.

“More, yes,” Ichigo answered, frustration and hunger clear in his voice, and then a blaze of his reiatsu flooded the room, burning away the effects of the tea. He lurched upright on the futon, his hand snapping out to imprison Kisuke’s wrist, holding his fingers where they circled the base of his throbbing cock, a manacle of flesh and bone. “But not nearly enough.”

Kisuke smirked and allowed himself to be pulled forward and rolled under Ichigo’s hot body.

_Tea effects cut by 85% under duress._

***

Kisuke ran through the house, dodging occasionally thrown items, grinning like an idiot.

“Spots, Kisuke!” Ichigo yelled. “How did you ever think tea that caused someone to be covered in _spots_ was a good idea?”

The blond stopped and turned. “I thought it would be useful if I could create a kind of biological camouflage. Honestly…”

Ichigo cut him off with a growl, “They’re pink! How the fuck would that be camouflage?”

Kisuke shunpo’d off again, grin firmly back in place. Who cared if he got caught? The pink was totally worth it.

***

“I think half the experiment is just to see how many times you can drug me.”

Kisuke paused in pouring the tea. “You mean like a trust experiment?” he asked.

“Maybe trust,” Ichigo shrugged, taking his cup. “Maybe stupidity. I mean, how many times can you hand me something, tell me “this is going to do something to you, but I’m not telling you what” and expect me to do it? At some point you have to figure that I’ll say no.”

Kisuke looked at him thoughtfully. “That isn’t…”

Ichigo raised his cup and drank. “Don’t worry about it, Kisuke. I mean… I know you’d never agree to something like this, but it’s okay. I don’t mind.”

The blond stepped forward and rested his hand on Ichigo’s wrist. “You’re wrong.”

Ichigo shivered and looked down at the hand touching him as if he’d never felt anything like it before. Apparently, the tea was working faster than his calculations indicated. 

“Wrong?” The question came out strangled, like Ichigo was struggling to focus on the words.

“Yes,” Kisuke pulled his hand back leaving only one finger resting against the pulse stampeding through Ichigo’s wrist. “I’d drink anything you gave me. No questions asked.”

Ichigo was staring at the spot where their skin was touching, fascinated.

“What does this one do?” he stuttered the words out.

Kisuke leaned forward, mere inches from Ichigo’s ear, to answer. “Hypersensitization.”

The keening sound that escaped Ichigo’s mouth was breathtaking.

***

Shunsui-san had a lot to answer for, calling him in for an _emergency_ that basically entailed him saying, “No, I don’t want a Captaincy” fourteen different ways. That might be an emergency for him, but it was decidedly less important to Kisuke.

“Long day?” Ichigo was standing in the kitchen as he made his way up from the basement. At least the Captain Commander wasn’t putting up a fuss about his senkaimon. Not that he could really do anything about it.

“After dealing with Kyōraku all day, I almost feel sorry for the people who have to deal with me. All that duplicitous smiling. It’s exhausting.” He leaned in and kissed Ichigo swiftly. The small affections were something that he still hesitated over, but Ichigo appreciated them, and that made them worth the effort.

“Tea?” Ichigo raised the pot and Kisuke nodded. 

“Please. And use the good white. I need something subtle after a day of being beaten over the head constantly.”

Ichigo hummed his agreement and they pottered quietly around the kitchen while the tea steeped.

“So, are you going to take him up on his offer?”

Kisuke slanted a look across the kitchen. Of course, Ichigo would know what Kyōraku was up to. They were surprisingly close for men born a thousand years apart, and he’d seen the older man’s eyes resting on the redhead more than once. It might be concerning if he didn’t know that Ichigo was as loyal as the day was long, but until the young man woke up and realized he’d hitched his wagon to the wrong horse, Kisuke wasn’t going anywhere.

“No, I don’t think so,” he said finally, reaching out for the beaker of pale gold liquid with a smile of thanks. “I find that I like my current arrangements too much to go messing about with something like a new Captaincy.”

He sipped his cooling brew and caught Ichigo staring.

“You disapprove?” He took another sip, and yes… there was something there. Something under the soft notes of the white tea. Why that little sneaky…

“No,” Ichigo said, with a shake of spiky orange hair. “I find that I, too, like your current arrangements.”

Kisuke raised an eyebrow and tilted his cup, and Ichigo’s lip quirked a fraction in its own question. _A challenge then. So be it._ He raised the cup, and never dropping his gaze from Ichigo’s, drained it dry.

“How long do I have?” he asked, and Ichigo laughed.

“Long enough, although you might want to take your good robe off. Wouldn’t do for it to get messy.”

Kisuke’s mind traveled through all the ways that _messy_ could happen like a bullet ricocheting inside his skull.

“Messy, hmm?”

Ichigo chivvied him down the hall as he shrugged out of his sleeves. “Yes, massage oil tends to get that way.”

Mmmmm, massage. That sounded nice.

“You knew what Shunsui was going to ask.” It wasn’t a question, but Ichigo murmured an assent. 

“He asked me what you’d say. I told him to ask you.”

Kisuke thought about that for a minute. “Thank you. For not answering for me.”

Ichigo pushed him face down on the futon—all made up already, look at that—and reached for the bottle of massage oil. “Not my place.”

Something warm curled in Kisuke’s belly. It must be the tea.

“Still,” he said into the pillow that had somehow found its way under his head, “it’s nice to not be managed.”

Warm hands slid up his back and he could feel a chuckle through them.

“You’re much happier being the manager, aren’t you?”

Usually that was true. Right now, though, he was fine with letting Ichigo be in charge.

“That’s good to know.” The chuckle got louder. He must’ve said that out loud.

“You said that out loud, too.” Ichigo dug one of his thumbs into a tightly corded muscle. He really should tune up this gigai. With Ichigo around he was putting a lot more strain on it than in the past hundred years or so.

Ichigo laughed out loud, his scowl completely gone for once. “That tea was much more effective than I expected. Maybe I should use less Diazepam next time.”

Kisuke considered the light and floaty feeling he was experiencing. “This isn’t so bad. For being drugged. With tea. Really.”

Ichigo flipped him over and straddled him, rubbing the massage oil into the muscles just under his collar bones. “At least you aren’t covered in spots.”

“No,” Kisuke nodded, “no spots. Just a little fuzzy around the edges.” It was nice. He was safe. Warm. This was much nicer than some of the tea he’d fed Ichigo. Although the hypersensitization one looked fun, even if Ichigo swore he’d never let him touch his cock again after that. Kisuke knew he didn’t really mean it.

“That’s what human drugs will do to you.” Ichigo leaned forward and kissed him gently. “I wanted you to be able to relax for a while. I know the business with Seireitei is stressful.”

Kisuke groaned when Ichigo hit another cluster of tight muscles. It felt so good for something that hurt so much.

“You’re too good to me.”

“You say that now,” Ichigo said with a laugh, hands still busily digging into muscle, “I doubt you’re going to be saying that later.”

“Why not?” Kisuke’s floaty feeling was beginning to tingle. Hmm.

Ichigo leaned down to whisper in his ear, his hands sliding suggestively lower. “Because Xanax wasn’t the only thing I put in your tea.”

Kisuke shivered and made a note to himself. _This is what you get when you poke a dragon_.

_Isn’t it wonderful?_


End file.
